Porcelain
by Fayre Amore
Summary: 'There was a time that our porcelain girl was made of fire, of energy, and she identified with the thunder and the pouring rain. She was chaotic and hectic and dazzlingly beautiful.' The story of a boy made of lightning and a girl made of glass.


Once upon a time, there was a crowded room and a porcelain girl. She seemed so fragile, and you couldn't help but be afraid to touch her, afraid to break her. She had glass skin and a marble heart that creaked as it stuttered inside her porcelain chest. Her eyes were a painted green, piercing and lifeless.

But she wasn't always so delicate. No, there was a time that our porcelain girl was made of fire, of energy and she identified with the thunder and the pouring rain. She was chaotic and hectic and dazzlingly beautiful.

She was still beautiful, in that same way that an antique doll is beautiful as it sits unmoving upon a dusty old shelf. In a sharp, cold sort of a way.

* * *

Lily Evans did not smile. Not that it was a conscious effort, as though one day she woke up and decided that, from now on, smiling was not an option-it was slow process, like a feather falling. Yes, that was what she was. A feather falling down, down, down.

It began when she was fifteen, and she realized that promises could be broken, the ones you loved could hurt you the most, and "best friends" didn't always mean forever.

She fell further when the war really escalated and she realized that "mudblood" was more than just a derogatory term-it was a death sentence. She understood that this war was over people like _her_, and that there were many who wanted her dead. That thought scared her like nothing else.

She finally hit rock bottom when people she knew started to die, or disappear. When her parents were targeted and her father was found dead in an ally next to the house-with seemingly no cause. She knew, though. They all did.

So when the day came that she found herself smiling because of the one person she'd never thought capable of breaking down her carefully constructed walls, it came as a very large shock.

"Hey, Evans!" Lily heard Ja-_Potter's _voice echoing down the hallway as she hurriedly made her way towards the Gryffindor dormitories, planning to get a little homework done before collapsing into bed.

James Potter, however, seemed intent on thwarting her plans for the night. Being Head Boy and Girl together, she'd gotten to know Potter a bit better and had to come to realize that he wasn't quite the arrogant toe-rag she'd originally believed him to be, not anymore. This, however, did _not _change anything between them-it _didn't, _even if she called him James in her head- and she'd maintained a healthy distance between the two of them.

Or rather, she tried. James-_Potter _seemed to have the annoying ability to end any plans or ideas that did not fit with his agenda. And she seemed to be becoming less and less willing to stop him.

As he called her name for the third time, sounding quite a bit closer than he had the first, she sighed and turned towards his nearing form, giving him her best, practiced glare. "_What, _Potter? I have things to do."

"I'm quite aware of that, Evans. I don't intend to stop you. I just wanted to walk with you back to the common room, maybe talk a little-now don't _glare _at me like that Evans, its rather fearsome, you know. Do you practice that look in front of the mirror?" He stood looking down at her, having shot up in height quite a bit over the summer, and gave her a silly, devil-may-care grin. Secretly it was her favorite of his different smiles and smirks, and he seemed to know it.

Lily looked at him with a mixture of surprise and reluctance, not wanting to give him an inch and yet, at the same time, wanting to give him every inch she owned. It was a terribly confusing feeling, and she wished he'd just disappear.

But alas, it was not to be. "Alright then, but if you even think of asking me out or using some idiotic pick up line on me, I swear-"

"Evans. Give me a little credit, will you? I haven't done anything of the sort this entire year. I've tried to be different-I _am _different." James' expression had changed to a frustrated, almost sad look. Lily felt guilt prickle inside her.

She paused, thinking back over the four months they'd been back at Hogwarts for their last year, and noted with some shock that he was right. Not once had he said _anything _to her that could be flirty-he'd been just as distant and reserved with her as she'd been with him. She looked up at him apologetically. "You're right. I'm sorry. I have noticed, but not as much as I should have."

If he was surprised at her uncharacteristic apology, he didn't show it. "Quite alright Evans! Now, tell me, how terrible was that potions exam?"

They chatted back and forth for a bit, and Lily found herself not really caring when they passed the Fat Lady painting. She'd never really _talked _to Potter, about anything-unless she was screaming profanities and hexes at him, which she wasn't sure actually counted.

Almost an hour and a few dozen subjects later, the topic of the conversation turned to more serious matters. They discussed the war, and whether the other thought it might end before they graduated Hogwarts. Neither seemed to hold much hope for that, but they attempted to be cheerful for the other's benefit, hoping to convince themselves in the process. Then finally, after a slight lull in the conversation, James stopped in the middle of the hall and turned towards her, determination written in the pull of his eyebrows and the downward turn of his lips. And then he asked her the question she absolutely hated trying to answer. She'd never been a good liar, no matter how hard she tried, and this was a question that practically demanded that she lie.

"So Lily," He started, in that serious tone of voice that immediately put her on her guard. He'd also started calling her by her first name at some point during the conversation, and she didn't quite care enough to tell him off for it. To be honest, she hadn't even noticed for a long while. "How are you, really?" He looked at her intensely, his expression sober. "And don't give me a crap answer, after seven years I know you well enough to tell when something is not alright."

Lily tried to tell herself to lie, she really did. '_I'm fine, Potter.' _She practiced in her head. _'I'm alright, just stress, seventh year and all.' _

But then she looked up at him, into his hazel eyes that held concern and sadness for her, and she just couldn't. She couldn't lie. And she couldn't hold it in any longer.

Her lower lip quivered just a bit before she cleared her throat and steeled herself. "Well, I suppose it's just… a lot of things. It began with the end of fifth year, when everything blew up with Severus," his expression turned hard and angry for a moment before he seemed to calm himself, "and then things just kept happening."

Suddenly she found herself spilling out the entire story to him, every deeply-hidden fear and cause of pain and the fact that every time she breathed it felt like something was broken in her chest, something important. She told him of her father, and how he was the one she always ran to when she was hurting, and how suddenly he couldn't be that person anymore because he was _gone. _She told him how she hated the war they were in, because it wasn't _fair_, and they were going to have to fight in it when they were finished with school and they hadn't even had any part in the making of it. And at some point she began to cry and without asking he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly and securely, like he was trying to transfer his own strength to her. And she didn't know how it happened, but somehow they ended up on the floor and she was in his lap and he was rocking her gently, not saying anything because he was smart enough to realize empty words weren't going to help.

It was a long while before she regained the ability to breathe normally, but his hold on her never lessened. Lily realized that, in the arms of this boy she'd spent the last six years convincing herself she hated, she felt safe and comforted and _loved _for the first time in a long while_. _And she took a deep breath, one that filled her lungs and left her feeling cleansed and just _better, _and she realized that nothing felt broken. That deep, hidden thing behind her ribs, that important thing that didn't have a name but she felt its loss, wasn't broken any longer.

She sat up then, looking up into James' face, and studied him. She knew what he looked like of course, having been around him for almost seven years, but she'd never taken the time to really _look. _He had a freckle under his eye off to the corner, she noted, and his nose was a little crooked, from being broken too many times, and his lips were-_really close. _

By the time she thought that possibly she ought to move away from him, his lips were already against hers. He wasn't moving, and it wasn't even a proper kiss-it was more as though his head had moved without his volition and his lips happened to land on hers.

But she reached up and threaded her fingers lightly through his hair, and _then _it turned into a kiss. A real, sweet, loving kiss and she found herself smiling against his mouth. _Smiling._

It only lasted a couple seconds before he pulled away, but he kept his forehead leaned lightly against hers. He looked at her, disbelief and hope and joy warring for center stage in his eyes, and he brushed his fingers softly against her lips. "You're smiling," he whispered.

Her smile grew wider. "So I am."

"You haven't smiled since the end of sixth year. Not that I've been keeping track."

She laughed gently, the noise sounding both absolutely foreign and absolutely normal coming from her. How long had it been since she'd last laughed? "I just haven't found a reason to thus far, I suppose."

He just looked at her for a moment, his expression becoming serious, and seemed to think over his next words. "May I be your reason to smile, then?" He finally said softly. "So you never fall down again. Let me be your reason."

She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of him breathing. _This was real_, she thought to herself. _He _was real. Lily opened her eyes then and smiled, blinking away tears. "Yes," she responded softly. She watched as his whole demeanor changed and he grinned.

James suddenly jumped to his feet, pulling Lily up with him. He wrapped his arms back around her and kissed her quickly before pulling away and looking her straight in the eye. "Lily Evans," he began. She smiled again, recognizing that old sparkle in his eyes. "Lily Evans, would you _please _do me the honor of accompanying me as my date on the next Hogsmeade trip?"

She grinned mischievously before sighing despondently. "Oh, I suppose, since it seems the Giant Squid has no intention of making a move."

He whooped loudly, picking her up and spinning her around before setting her lightly on her feet. He leaned his forehead against hers. "And we'll be alright, Lily. This war is bigger than us, but we'll face it together and we'll be alright."

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a porcelain girl caught in the middle of a war that held no regard for things made of glass. But along came a boy, a boy who pulled the girl off of her dusty old shelf and taught her how to smile, helped her relearn the thunder. This boy showed her that it was alright to be breakable, as long as she had a reason to put herself back together. And later, she found that he was lightning and ocean waves and everything she needed to be strong. And our porcelain girl became glass no longer.

* * *

_**A/N **_**Hello again! This is new style of writing I'm trying out, and I actually had a lot of fun writing it. So it may not be very good, but it was fun and I'd love to hear what you guys think :D  
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